Christmas is

Red the sheepdog bounding up
the snow-speckled slope herding
the woolies. How he squatted low
fixed his soul-set eyes, rumbling.

Squalling from my fat-assed
spot, I followed meekly like sheep
into the wide, welcoming pen.

food truths

All of us have heard of free radicals, that can mutate into something well, mutant.

Here’s the food imagery. Imagine DNA as cross hatched spaghetti, a twisted, intricately knotted ladder. When UV penetrates to the cell’s DNA, the photons (ie sun’s laser beam) hits this DNA, burns a hole in the DNA knot. It unravels. The body’s enzymes start fixing, eat up the damage, create a new DNA rung to fix the ladder, tie it into a perfect knot again. These are chemical reactions. The by-product is toxic oxygen, ie. free radicals. Oxygen has two electrons in its orbit. Free radicals have only one and it races around like a Tasmanian devil tryng to steal an electron from another molecule.

Enter the superheroes. Antioxidants quench and destroy the toxic free radical. The baddie is sun damage. To think I used to go sun tanning in my 20s. The folly of youth. A *healthy* tan was what I was after.

(I didn’t make this up, but summarised from a book on simple skin beauty.)

Pomegranate is a tumour-inhibiting antioxidant. So are the polyphenols in green tea, resveratrol in cranberries, red wine and grapes, lycopene in cooked tomatoes.

Beauty products may put vitamin C and E derivatives (ascorbic acid and tocopherol acetate) in creams and serums but the topical usage may only give limited benefit. Isn’t it better to eat these foods and let the body (that work of art) deliver the nutrients where they’re needed through the circulatory system? I’m beginning to sound like a dietician!

Are we having an epiphany yet?

Just so I will remember, here comes the food lists. The skin, it appears, get the last pickings as the body delivers nutrients to the other organs that need them first.

Vitamin C: oranges, lemons, grapefruit, papaya, tomatoes
Vitamin E: sweet potatoes, nuts, olive oil, sunflower seeds, avocados, broccoli, leafy green vegetables

These vitamins fight oxidation damage to skin’s DNA cells and are also key elements in structural proteins in the body, important to blood vessels and hair follicles. And for making collagen which, as you know, is needed to pump up the skin. Vitamin E reduces inflammation and helps wound healing. Vitamin C of course enhances your immune response.

Vitamin A: fish oil, salmon, carrots, dairy products, spinach, broccoli
Without it, skin becomes extremely dry and dull.

Zinc: turkey, almonds, brazil nuts, wheat germ
Anti-inflammatory mineral that calms irritation in the epidermis and facilitates cell regeneration.

Biotin: egg yolks, bananas, lentils, cauliflower, salmon
This B vitamin strengthens skin, hair, nails.

Omega 6 : nuts, eggs, sunflower and soybean oil (found in snacks like crackers, cookies, cereals)
Omega 3 : cold water fish like salmon and sardines, flaxseed oil, walnuts, sunflower seeds, almonds
Essential fatty acids that support skin health, improve nerve and vascular function and act as anti-oxidants.
We get Omega 6 from the snacks we eat constantly and too much increases the risk of high blood pressure and every bad thing. We need to consciously eat more Omega 3 foods.

Monosaturated fats: olive oil, canola oil, avocados
The bricks and mortar of keeping skin healthy and intact.

Antioxidants: blueberries, green tea, olive oil, artichokes, pomegranates, dark chocolate, red wine
As mentioned, they’re the superheroes.

Are we making good food choices yet?

Christmas countdown

Since Christmas is coming and I’ve not gotten my mittens or presents, this post will be a stab at getting into gear for Christmas. At least the date’s fixed for our house party, if nothing else.

I have not been shopping a lot lately. So I’m going to make a post about new Christmas sandals.

Yay! I’ve got new footwear. Got ‘em at basement prices too.

Also, I’ve got Christmas gift tags from Watson’s.

It’s a start.

beautiful skin

I no longer have beautiful skin. As in unblemished porcelain texture. *sniffs*

To delay further decay I had signed up for a facial package. Today I had my facial and the facial therapist says I haven’t been in since August and instead of the hydrated skin she complimented me on the last time, my face is less hydrated. Which makes me think I am well and truly on the path to being haggard, if I don’t keep to my monthly facials like a religion.

Wake up call for me! I sneaked a picture of the creams they slather on our face..yummy plant based creams like cucumber and aloe vera. And serums which deep penetrate the epidermis.

I will restart my beauty regime – exfoliating weekly, and rub moisturizer *every* night. I’ve been skipping and see the damage. Lazy girl!

golden anniversary

Chocoholics product range’s photostream

a bride a second time a homecoming

I kept the golden confetti a handful of 50s
in a trinket box sprinkles of gold dust

the tailored mermaid dress in cream gold
an English hat stitched with a bird’s cage veil
embroidered peach gloves for thin hands

new rouge new lipstick new foundation powder
she had no use for after they sat on my vanity counter

Mama had trouble getting out of her house coat
so she scissored it off and Papa said don’t laugh

as she slipped on her new shoes she said
offhandedly this same dress for my funeral
she was full of foresight as it was

stepping into the burgundy London cab she looked
regal fair as an English lady we sat across from her
a series of light taps she said relieved the stiff jowl
post stroke like this her fingers went tappity tap

the rented hallway formed arches of blue balloons
blue-and-white spliced streamers the dancing began
a pivot for all she reigned she was queen of the ball

the men wore suits even the truckload of grandsons
the room waltzed back into time

it was the final migration of summer memories floated
like twigs happy anniversary it was the rest is silence

pomegranate

image by Nasos3

Blotched skin of a dull leathery Chinese apple,
cast off harvest, decaying amber of autumn.

Eggs corralled like rubies stuck in a pith eased
out in the monthly lube, constant unembedding.

Ovary fruit, a tangled history of seeds sloughed
off stain of sticky blood, inordinate, terminal.

The girl ate pomegranate seeds from his cupped
hands, suffered erstwhile for a grieving season.

The husk he sliced open cannot be spliced, the
crown a collapsed thick sluice gate removed.

The mantle of seasons like seared skin, she laid
awake as her children slept like peaches. Hollowed

out, mottled, spent, she is Mother Earth, a child of
the seasons. Old sorrow flew out like many sparrows.

Christmas comes but once a year

image of Christmas nuts by pussling

image of sugee cake by Taking5

image of Curry Devil by Ah Hood Gardens

Different cultures have a version of an annual family get-together. In the US, there’s Thanksgiving. In Singapore, the different ethnic groups carved out a feast on annual occasions. For the Eurasians, it’s the Christmas season.

Another Christmas. I will retrieve the dog-eared
invitees list clipped onto the Marks and Spencers
address book. A weary movement of wrist flicking
through the presents list, the same list, repeated.
My heart used to trail chocolate truffles and walnuts.

Scented candles in a nook. The holly wreath hung
on the door’s eternal hook. Chipolata sausages set to
grill. Thinly sliced Virginia ham, a pitcher of tiny forks.
Sugee cake, crumbly. The guests chomped on the same
hors d’oeuvres. Pots brimmed with Christmas curries.

Older siblings on the wrong side of fifty, every one
middling. Serial kisses on the cheek, beary hugs.
For those you’re miffed with, a slight palm shake.
Christmas jingles. Sins forgiven, even if not forgotten.
The deepest cut, the ghost of your mum’s cooking.

Cousins with like faces played raucous console games.
Adolescent breakouts. Adults cracked walnuts, laughing.
The girls, once in frocks, suddenly smoky with make-up.
I guess no one will do the limbo rock. We almost rolled on
the floor laughing. All souls inebriated, toasty karma.

Time to haul out the same gold-speckled Christmas tree.
Time to turn to your mum’s recipe, the one for curry devil,
scribbled in a green notebook, standing next to her as
chillis, onions, garlic, candlenuts waited on the cutting
board for the blender, as I hunted for mustard seeds.

poetry clinic

I attended a poetry clinic last weekend with Felix Cheong, a Singaporean poet. Felix’s latest collection, Sudden in Youth: New and Selected Poems (2009), continues his masterful word play which is, in my reading, his trademark. Winner of the National Arts Council’s Young Artist of the Year for Literature Award in 2000, Felix has published three previous books of poetry. His third, Broken by the Rain (2003) was shortlisted for the 2004 Singapore Literature Prize. Felix is notably a literary activist and was invited to read at writers’ festivals in Edinburgh, Austin, Sydney, Brisbane, Christchurch, Hongkong, Kuala Lumpur, Ubud and Singapore.

image by Sakurako Kitsa

He didn’t wear a tweed jacket nor
smoked a pipe. There wasn’t a fancy
pen, just a black ballpoint meting out
sentences on a poem diagnostic sheet.
A plethora of polyglot poems like
pernicious weeds, plastering unmet
needs. I watched his ballpoint prickle
each. Another processional poem shrunk to
a pea, porous as platitudes. Mugged,
poked, questioned, I prevaricated.
Posthumously, as red as a lobster.
I saw weakly in the distorted light,
the mired geometry of a parallelogram,
the seed of illumination in sad pilloried
lines, immanent beauty procrastinated.

my reptilian dream

image by MoonshineBluebird

This is my dream journal poem that seems, well, rather pointless.

We climbed aboard, onto a rafter of a boat,
sight-seers crossing to an island. On landing
we passed a kiosk singling out a screwdriver
head on a retractable pointer, useful for lectures
or a toy projectile. Suddenly we’re jostling
against people. In an open space, a show involving
reptiles in two separate pits. The snakes on one side.
I saw them seething, recoiling in fear. Sundry large
reptiles attacking the snakes. Next thing I knew,
the show skewed its slant. Lizards leapt
randomly. Anyone could be the target, part of
the display. It was just showmanship. No one
got hurt. The crowd shuffled along in sections.
I lagged behind my family, trying to hide,
cowardly with reptiles. Stay invisible.
There was a sudden opening in the crowd.
I felt drafty, exposed. Swift as an arrow,
a Komodo dragon lurched towards me.
It rested on my forearm, now its armrest.
But in an instant, its face turned cute as
a pet, assuaging my fear. If I let fear slip in,
it quickly grew menacing. So I kept on an
even keel, as if I’m the boat’s bow lending
support to a shipwrecked dragon flopping
endearingly. I felt its palpable weight,
its scaly carapace a texture on my skin
I could get used to, as I waited wondering
in the midst of the ordeal, my fear rankling.
Then we were in the high speed boat bound
for home. Blinking, remembering the shock of
its scales, of being singled out, of perching on
a brink, my face pressed onto the feathered pillow.

it takes two

Scene 1: The first time they met

Derek: You’re ignoring me.
Meredith: Um, trying to.
Derek: You shouldn’t ignore me.
Meredith: Why not?
Derek: Because I’m someone you need to get to know to love.
Meredith: Really?
Derek: Oh yes.
Meredith: So if I know you, I’ll love you?
Derek: Oh yes.
Meredith: You really like yourself, huh?

Pick a scene. Random scenes, plucked from TV shows. That’s fiction.

Behind the scene. There’s the reality. Real-life drama, unfolding. This minute, now.

Tonight, she’s flying off, just two days after the awful truth. Far away from the man she married, loved, supported, with all her heart, and all her money. So he cheated on her. Love wrecked. She’ll keep asking, why? And he’ll keep saying, I’m sorry. She says, Sorry? But I’m all broken.

How does one avoid tripping on the broken shards, the painful fragments separating the fictions we create, and the reality we inhabit?

She waited at the bar, tousled hair swishing
at every door swing, but he didn’t show.

He’s wrestling with his demons, kicking
sand, hands thrust in his pocket, dawdling.

She smiled, held the slender stem of
the glass, ruby red lips perfectly still.

He lunged with his partner on the dance
floor, twisty with their dirty little secret.

She checked his text messages, unpicked
a spool of lies, bookings on a hooker racket.

He stumbled onto sordid websites, checked into
seedy places, suavely massaging the truth.

After the wreckage, she’ll never wager on falling, yet
again, hook, line and sinker, for another primal male.

After the carnage, he’ll never raise himself up, woozy
in wedlock, wanking without, downhill ever after.